Sulagna Misra’s previous work for The Toast can be found here.

After I saw Mad Max: Fury Road, I was less preoccupied with jumping into a mental whirlpool of “whether the movie was feminist or not” than I was in examining the trope I saw emerging, as highlighted in this Tumblr post:

Pacific Rim: Well written and developed female character fights aliens with her golden retriever
Winter Soldier: well written and developed female character fights the government with her golden retriever and bird
Mad Max: Several well written and developed female characters fight everything with their confused golden retriever

Sure, it’s only a few movies, but as I thought about it, I could see the comparisons: The “golden retriever” action movie trope is so called because of the main male characters’ cooperative, trusting, and loyal nature. This is a change-up from the regular lone hero — or the anti-hero, or the chosen one, or the subversive spy — because of the focus on trusting another person, with that trust leading to cooperation and then actual results. Because cooperation is tantamount, the male characters’ stories don’t overshadow or subsume space for female characters’ stories, which flourish in tandem with theirs.

Carmen Miranda, who died sixty years ago this month, was a star of the 1940s and ’50s — one of the world’s best-paid artists in both the music and movie industries, as famous for her style as for her work. Nowadays, however, she is practically unknown. If people remember her at all, it’s likely due to a Daffy Duck, Bugs Bunny, or Tom & Jerry cartoon — old references themselves — making fun of her style, her music, her platform heels, her colorful dresses, and her gigantic turbans with the most outrageous props. But sometimes it’s enough to say that she is “the Lady in the Tutti-Frutti Hat” — that will evoke at least a vague image of Miranda, if not her importance as one of the most famous Brazilian celebrities of all time.

Sixty years after her death, Carmen Miranda is still a polarizing figure in my native Brazil. Some believe, not without basis, that her iconic public persona helped create a distorted view of the country. Others praise her for putting us on the world’s cultural map. Carmen herself dealt with this dichotomy throughout her lifetime — sometimes impatiently, but mostly with good humor. Yes, she did often play to the stereotype of the “exotic Latina,” hot-blooded and extravagantly dressed, singing songs with senseless lyrics (chica chica boom chica chica boom chica chica boom), but didn’t many other artists play to stereotypes as well? This did not mean she was not a multifaceted and compelling performer.

Carmen loved her country and knew how defend it through humor. If uninformed gringos asked her whether snakes roamed freely down the streets of urban Rio de Janeiro, she said:

“Why, yes. There is even a special sidewalk just for them at the Avenida Rio Branco.”

1. Asking the sheriff if there was a law against him eating in Hope, Washington.

2. Dressing in a manner the sheriff found displeasing.

3. Asking the sheriff why he pushed him.

4. Not leaving Hope, Washington when the sheriff told him they didn’t want his kind there and dropped him off at the bridge.

5. Failing to show ID on request when walking and not operating a motor vehicle.

6. Passively resisting his unlawful arrest by refusing to give his name.

NED: I’m the swimming man
I’m here for your wet backyard squares
when you’re in the pool it’s bad suburban ennui
but when im in the pool it’s brave